Most Devoted
by Hc-Svnt-Dracones
Summary: When Eponine is 17, she meets Cosette for the second time. [High School AU, Eponine/Cosette. Warnings for mentions of abuse/neglect, underage drinking and excessive swearing.]


On the first day of her second year of eleventh grade, Eponine sees a ghost. Or, to be a little less stupid about it, she smashes face first into the foster kid who'd lived with her family when they were both seven, only to be whisked away a year later. Eponine doesn't know what to do. Her first instinct is to run in the opposite direction, because the scrawny little Cinderella she had known had grown up and grown beautiful and she would probably spit in Eponine's face if she knew who she was. Her second instinct is to help her up and apologize for the collision, like a normal human being. She combines the two by picking up a few textbooks and handing them over, eyes averted, before bolting.

She sulks her way to her fourth period chemistry class. Marius is already there, reading something, and when she sits down next to him, he looks at her with moon-eyes. She breathes in deep through her nose, steeling herself for whatever's about to come.

"Hello, Marius," she says.

"Hello. There's a new girl in my French class."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah…" he murmurs, trailing off.

"What about it?" Eponine prompts.

"Oh, she's so… I don't know. Her French is _perfect_. She shouldn't be in my class. But I'm glad she is."

"Good for you."

"I've never seen _anyone_ with such green eyes," Marius says next and Eponine freezes.

"Yeah?" she asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

"And blonde hair. Really long blonde hair. Like, mermaid long hair."

"This mermaid have a name?" Eponine asks, not entirely sure she wants the answer.

Marius shrugs.

"We have French Class names. Hers is Euphrasie. I don't know her real name."

Marius glances at her imploringly, then, and she knows what he wants without having to ask. She sighs.

"I don't know how you expect me to find out about this chick without any information. Her French name is Euphrasie? That's real fucking helpful."

"Thank you, Eponine!" he cries, hugging her quickly about the shoulders.

"Just leave it to me, Romeo," she says, rolling her eyes and pushing him off of her. "But you owe me. Chemistry homework for a month."

"Yeah… sure," Marius murmurs, smiling dopily.

Of course, there's no guarantee that Marius is thinking of the same girl Eponine is. There could easily be more than one new girl, but Eponine feels strangely certain that Marius' mermaid must also be her ghost and that investigating for Marius will quiet the curiosity that is gnawing at the pit of her stomach. Because she _needs_ to know what happened between now and then, where Cosette went and what her life was like, even if finding out means she'll have to tell Marius, who has no right to wonder.

She lies to the guidance counselor about wanting to switch language classes and is told on no uncertain terms that third period French is full. Insisting gets him to turn his monitor—with the class roster on it—around just long enough for Eponine to scan for Cosette's last name: Fauchelevant.

It's there, of course.

It only takes a minute longer after that to ask if she could maybe just switch into the French teacher's advisory and to learn that it's full, too, and that that's also because of Cosette. She'd figured. They always stick the kids who are good at French with Madame.

From there, she asks the French teacher for help with verbs and sneaks a peek at the grade book when she gets a moment alone—Cosette has mostly As and Bs and has been noted down as a possible peer tutor. There's also a small file on each of Madame's advisees in the top drawer, including old report cards. From what Eponine can make out in her crappy, only-spoken-when-visiting-grandma French, Cosette had been adored by the teachers at her old school, a French Academy for the children of the rich and important.

And finally she talks to a few of the cheerleaders, because Cosette is more than pretty enough to be one of them. She learns that Cosette's father is some sort of businessman, a philanthropist type, and unmarried. He is apparently also good-looking in a craggy, mysterious sort of way. She learns that Cosette doesn't look very much like her father at all and that she hadn't mentioned a mother, which Eponine could have guessed. She learns that Cosette wears a cross around her neck and seems religious, in a marshmallow sort of way. And lastly, she learns that Cosette had not been interested in trying out for cheerleading, but that she had turned them down gently.

This all would have been so much easier if Eponine could just have hated her.

They run into one another again the next week and, again, Cosette's books go flying.

"We have to stop meeting like this," she says, with a soft, kind smile as they gather up her books.

"Sorry," Eponine mumbles, feeling suddenly self-conscious of the fact that she hadn't showered this morning, of the sweatshirt she'd stolen from Montparnasse, of the fact that she's wearing her jeans with the holes in the knees and the stain near the crotch. She'd mostly washed it off, but still.

"What's your name?" Cosette asks, and it's like she really wants to know.

"Eponine," Eponine mutters. Cosette's brow furrows.

"Eponine," she repeats, "I used to know someone named Eponine…"

"It's not that weird a name 'round here," she says, shrugging jerkily, "Lotsa French people,"

"I gathered. This school's Spanish department is a joke."

"It might not be some fancy academy or whatever, but we do all right," Eponine says, prickling. Cosette's eyes widen and they really are just about the greenest things Eponine has ever fucking seen.

"I didn't mean to offend you," Cosette says. Her voice still has a hint of subservience, of meekness, of all the work Eponine's parents had put into making Cosette as weak as they possibly could. It's faded, of course— being loved and cared for will do that— but it's still there. It makes Eponine's stomach twist with guilt and with something else— something odd and protective and warm.

"'Salright," she says, a little too quickly, "I know you didn't,"

"I'm Cosette," Cosette says. And then, "Please, come and have lunch with me."

_I can't_, Eponine knows she is supposed to say, _I'm having lunch with some friends_, or _I have to meet a teacher, _or _I don't have lunch next period_, or _I have some homework to catch up on_, or anything, anything at all to avoid going into the cafeteria empty handed. "Yeah, okay," she mumbles instead.

Luckily, Cosette believes her story about forgetting her lunchbox at home and insists on buying her the special— nachos complete with plastic melted cheese and wilted lettuce and Styrofoam beef. Eponine can't remember the last time she ate so well at school. Over their meal, Eponine tells Cosette everything she'll need to know to survive.

"Enjolras is student body president," she explains between bites of nachos. She'd meant to pace herself, to try and save some for later or at least avoid looking like a pig with its head in the trough, but it's impossible. The moment she'd smelled the food her stomach had remembered just how long it'd been since she'd eaten anything substantial and restraint had gone out the window. "He's also in like Amnesty International and Model UN and debate and stuff and he's kind of insane."

"How so?"

"Well… last year some dude on the football team spray-painted the word 'fag' on somebody's house and Enjolras like brought his ass to _justice_."

"What do you mean?"

"He got him suspended, first of all, and then he personally made him scrub the kid's house _and_ repaint the whole wall when it wouldn't fucking come off."

Cosette's eyes widen and Eponine blanches. She hasn't exactly meant to curse in front of her new-old friend and then, of course, there is the fact that she can't possibly know what Cosette will think of the gay situation here in town. Maybe she thinks football players should be perfectly within their rights to torture closeted freshmen. Or maybe she'll run home in tears and convince her rich father to move somewhere else, somewhere that isn't so small-town closed-minded and she'll forget Eponine all over again.

"That _is_ impressive," Cosette says after a moment, "Though I would've thought that would count as a hate crime?"

"Nah, not when the cops are all on the fucking football guy's side and he's a minor anyway and the kid whose house got fucked is too scared and embarrassed to bother pressing charges."

Cosette frowns at that, like she's thinking, but also like she wants to go and find that little freshman and give him a hug.

"What about the one next to Enjolras?" Cosette asks. She's still frowning, but she's changed the subject and Eponine is stupidly grateful.

"Glasses?" she asks, following Cosette's gaze.

"Yes."

"That's Combeferre, Enjolras' VP. He's probably an okay guy, but I sort of hate him for being so fucking smart."

"And on the other side?"

"Courfeyrac. He's… He's like a kitten or something, I don't even know with that guy, he's just _ridiculous_."

"He's a class clown?"

"I guess you could say that, but all the teachers love him too."

"And who is that?" Cosette asks, pointing subtly with the clean end of her fork at Marius.

"That's Marius," Eponine tells her, feeling the bottom drop out of her stomach. She'd been dreading this moment, "He's in your French class, isn't he?"

"Yes, but he hardly says anything."

"He's sorta shy. We're friends, actually. He lives near me."

"Maybe you'll introduce us sometime," Cosette says, smiling and taking a dainty bite of her salad.

Eponine thinks she would rather eat a live scorpion or sleep in a lion's den or confront her father about the three hundred dollars that had disappeared from her underwear drawer, but she nods and forces herself to smile.

"Yeah," she says, her voice feeling oddly strained, "Course."

"Who's that one?" Cosette asks after a moment of awkward silence, leaning in with a mischievous smile and pointing at a boy on the outskirts of the group.

"Grantaire," Eponine supplies, feeling a bit less enthused with their game all of a sudden.

"Why is he…?"

"He's prob'ly drunk."

"No!" Cosette gasps, scandalized.

Affection blooms, uninvited, in Eponine's chest. She tries to drown it with nacho cheese.

Marius grabs Eponine by the arm as she's leaving chemistry the next day.

"Well?" he asks, pulling her to the side of the hall. There's an eagerness in his eyes that makes Eponine wish she could lie to him and say she still has nothing.

"Her name's Cosette," she says, before she can regret it.

"Cosette," Marius repeats, rapturous.

"She's rich, but she seems nice enough," Eponine continues, ignoring the indignant way Marius frowns at that, "And she noticed you, even though you never fucking say anything."

"Anything else?"

"You were right, she's basically fluent in French. You could do like asshole guys in sitcoms and ask her to tutor you, if you want."

"…And?"

"And… and if you want to know anything else you gotta ask her your fucking self!"

With that, Eponine turns on her heel and storms away, leaving Marius to his stunned silence.

She feels sort of bad for yelling at him, but at the same time it goes away as soon as she sees Cosette sitting at the same lunch table they'd shared yesterday, waiting for her and smiling.

Weeks go by and Marius sits with Bossuet in chemistry instead of Eponine. It's fine. She doesn't mind; he's just waiting for it all to blow over. And anyway, it's not like she's making any sort of attempt to sit with him, either.

Eponine and Cosette eat together everyday. Some days, Eponine even makes a special effort and buys herself something from the convenience store on her way to school, but mostly Cosette pays and never seems to mind. They talk about school and their classmates and the TV shows they both watch and the books they're both reading. Cosette talks about her old school and her father, but she never mentions why she left or her mother. And Eponine talks about her neighborhood, about Gavroche and Marius and Grantaire, but never about the rest of her family.

As far as Eponine knows, Marius still has not spoken to Cosette. It's getting to be pathetic.

Eponine does text him eventually, to apologize for yelling and to promise to make it up to him. She texts Grantaire immediately after, so that when Marius replies she has an excuse to ignore him and avoid turning it into a _conversation_.

_we need to get drunk_ is all she says to Grantaire.

_YES. special occasoin or just generally?_

_ill tell you abt it later please just say i can come over like right now_

_mi casa es su casa_

So, on Friday night, weeks after first getting reacquainted with Cosette and yelling at Marius, after failing her first history test of the year and getting sent to the principal for swearing at her math teacher, Eponine sneaks out and gets heroically drunk in Grantaire's basement. She spends the night singing along to every sad weird hipster song he plays and dancing, laughing so loud she's sure she'll wake his parents.

By two in the morning, she's starting to feel sleepy and Grantaire has gone beyond cheerful-drunk and into maudlin-drunk.

"You know that new girl?" Eponine asks, leaning against Grantaire's shoulder. His eyes are shut and he might be falling asleep, so it's the perfect time. "Marius is into her."

"Hmm," Grantaire hums.

"But I am too."

"Hmm?"

"And I'm jealous, 'cause there's no way she'd ever like me back."

Grantaire's looks at her slowly, his eyes impossibly sad.

"_God_, I know that feeling," he sighs, pulling Eponine closer. She lets herself be held for once, resting her head on Grantaire's shoulder and listening to the rise and fall of his breathing.

"I have to get her and Marius together so I can just get the fuck over this," She decides, talking mostly to herself, "And it has to be soon."

It really isn't hard to convince Courfeyrac to throw a party. They might not be super close, but he isn't the sort of boy to let a birthday go by uncelebrated, not even a fake birthday. And as it turns out, Cosette is not turning 18 next weekend.

"There don't have to be presents or a cake or anything," Eponine tells him, "Cosette's dad is rich, so he'll get her a ton of shit, but she doesn't really have any friends here yet, so I thought maybe you assholes could help happy-up her birthday for her."

"Eponine. Come on now. As if I needed an excuse."

And that is how, on Saturday, Eponine and Cosette end up at Courfeyrac's along with the rest of the boys and a bunch of girls Eponine doesn't know. She's wearing one of Cosette's old dresses, one that had fit before Cosette's hips and breasts had come in. Her hair is curled and there are careful tiny braids beginning at her temples and interlocking behind the crown of her head. She has false eyelashes on her eyes and lip-gloss smeared across her mouth. She feels sort of like a doll, but Cosette had hugged her tight and called her beautiful, so she doesn't mind. Not really.

She draws in a deep breath and takes Cosette by the hand, leading her through the crowded living room toward Marius and Courfeyrac who are standing by the punch bowl, talking animatedly.

"Hey, it's the birthday girl!" Courfeyrac exclaims, beaming as they approach. Cosette looks at him confusedly.

"Marius," Eponine says, stepping in front of Courfeyrac before he can say anything else, "This is Cosette. Cosette, this is Marius. I…" she swallows, grits her teeth, "I think you two are really gonna hit it off."

She leaves before she has to listen to them flirting and goes to find Grantaire.

"Fuck my life," she declares, taking a seat on the arm of his chair and snagging the drink out of his hand.

"_Hey!_"

An hour goes by before Cosette comes and finds her again. By this point, Eponine is alone and a little tipsy, but it doesn't stop her from noticing that Cosette's hair is still perfect and her lipstick unsmudged. Hope jumps up within her, but she squashes it down again: Eponine does not believe in fairy tales.

"Hey, you disappeared," Cosette says, smiling her soft smile.

"Yeah, sorry. Do you wanna meet some more people?"

"Yes, please," Cosette says, her smile widening, "But don't abandon me again." she puts out a hand for Eponine to take and pulls her to her feet.

"Okay, we're gonna find Enjolras because I think that's where everyone went."

"Okay." Cosette loops her arm through Eponine's and Eponine's heart flies.

Enjolras is sitting on the steps with Combeferre and a few other guys, debating something that is way too serious for a fake birthday party.

"Hey, Enjolras," Eponine says, "Mind if we crash your downer conversation?"

Grantaire snorts.

"Feel free," Enjolras says, scooting over to make room on the step.

"Hello," Cosette says, taking the seat that doesn't quite exist between Eponine and Jehan. "You're Enjolras, right?"

"I am."

"I hear you're in Model UN."

"You hear correctly."

"I've been trying to decide whether or not I want to continue with it."

"We're always looking for new recruits," Enjolras says, straightening slightly in his eagerness, "We're meeting next Saturday, if you want to join. I'm going to a rally beforehand, but I could pick you up, if you—"

"Our fearless leader Enjolras," Grantaire interrupts, leaning across Combeferre and Joly to talk to Cosette, "Spent all of last summer occupying things. It was not super effective."

Eponine doesn't think she's ever seen anyone look quite as unamused as Enjolras does right now.

"_Grantaire_," he grinds out and Eponine is sure he's about to start yelling, but despite the irritation on his face, his voice stays relatively calm, "Put the flask _down_."

"Make me," Grantaire says, taking a long draw just to be contrary.

Enjolras shuts his eyes in exasperation before turning back to Cosette.

"You should come," he reiterates.

"I might," Cosette says, smiling, "I've been trying to decide which extracurriculars are going to end up on my college applications and which I'm going to have to quit if I want to keep my grades up. I don't have time for everything."

"Everything like what?" Eponine asks. She hates hearing people talk about college, hates the hopeless feeling it gives her, but she hadn't even realized it was such an important thing in Cosette's world. The thought of Cosette in college makes her swell with pride, even as it depresses her and, despite herself, she wants to know.

"Well, I sang in the choir and acapella at my old school. I play the flute and piano, I was in Model UN and Social Services and I was the president of the book club and the QSA. Um… I was a tour guide, I was in vestry, varsity volleyball, horseback riding—"

"Horses?" Eponine asks, incredulous, "Holy fuck, you really _are_ rich."

"How did you have time to _sleep_?" Joly asks, looking mildly horrified.

"No one slept at my old school," Cosette says, smiling like she might be kidding, but probably isn't, "We just worked."

"The American educational system," Grantaire says, raising his flask in a sarcastic toast. Enjolras clinks his glass of water against it and drinks before standing up and going to find Courfeyrac. Combeferre follows him and the rest of the boys disperse after that. Eponine hates them all. She wonders how long it'll be before Marius shows up again and asks Cosette to dance with him, to go out with him, to let him kiss her, to be his girlfriend, to take his virginity, to marry him, to have his children, to die in his arms at 83.

"What college are you even trying to get into with all that shit?" Eponine asks.

"I don't know," Cosette admits, with a small self-deprecating laugh, "I still have until January to finish my applications, though. If I can ever finish my personal essay."

Eponine doesn't say anything. She already hates the idea of Cosette leaving. Even more than that, she hates that she hates it, when they've only known each other for a month and a half and Cosette was always going to be one of those girls with a Bright Future ahead of her, anyway.

"It's funny," She murmurs, looking at her toes, "If you asked me last year, I woulda said I'd probably get pregnant and drop out or get arrested or end up working at Walmart or something. Run away if I was really lucky." She swallows, "And I fucking hate to think that all these dickwads are gonna graduate and leave me all alone here, much less that you're gonna leave, too, but…" she forces herself to look up. "You make me feel like I could do it. Maybe."

"You could absolutely do it," Cosette says firmly, sweetly, perfectly. Eponine feels a little bit like she might cry. She breathes in, long and shaky, and balls her hands up into fists.

"I know _exactly_ what my essay's gonna be about," she makes herself say.

"What?"

"I… when I was little, my parents took in foster kids. They were always awful to them and most of 'em didn't last any longer than an ear infection." She licks her lips, hesitating, and glances up at Cosette through her false eyelashes. She wants to retreat, but she isn't going to. "But there was this one girl, she was exactly my age, and she stayed for a year. And… I don't know, my parents told us to ignore her, but I was always really fascinated by her. I wanted her to like me so badly, but I was so horrible to her. And then one day my parents sent her to the store for a case of water bottles and this guy showed up. He said he was a friend of her mom's and he took her away and adopted her."

Recognition is dawning on Cosette's face. She's gone paler than usual; her impossibly green eyes are wide, wider than Eponine has ever seen them. Her hands are trembling faintly.

"And I… I'd want to write about her. I'd want to write about how weird it is that she was this important person in my life and then she was just _gone_ one day. And I'd want to write about how long it took me to realize that my parents were wrong to treat her like they did, how long it took me to realize I cared about that girl, even though they said I wasn't supposed to. About how… how cruel people are always gonna be cruel to _somebody_, even when there isn't anybody there to kick. Like, you can't just sit there and hope they won't look at you next, 'cause they will." She bites her lip and forces herself to look at Cosette, begging forgiveness with her eyes. "_And_ you can't just sit there hoping the person you hurt will forgive you. You hafta fix it. You hafta _do_ something."

"You _are_ that Eponine," Cosette says, her voice hoarse.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"So… so what did you do? How have you made it up to me?"

"I don't think I managed it yet. I tried to be your friend, but I'm not a very good friend, so that doesn't count. That was just me being selfish. And I was supposed to set you up with Marius, but I just got so fucking jealous—"

"I don't _want_ Marius," Cosette cuts in.

"You—"

"I have _zero_ interest in him."

"But—"

"Why didn't you _tell_ me you were that Eponine?"

"I… I didn't want you to hate me," Eponine admits, her face hot.

"I don't hate you," Cosette says, "But I am so _angry_ at you."

"I am so sorry, for _everything_—" Eponine begins, struggling not to burst into tears.

"You were _seven_ and they were your _parents_. God, I am not mad at you for ignoring me or for calling me names or for not sharing your… your _goddamned_ doll. I'm mad at you for _lying_ to me. I'm mad at you for acting like you think it's my job to absolve you of your sins. And I'm mad at you for assuming I'd just date whatever guy you threw at me—"

"That was actually a favor for Marius—"

"—When all this time I thought you liked me as much as I like you!"

Eponine's heart stops.

"You what—?"

And then Cosette is kissing her and it's fierce and biting and hard and all the things she'd never thought Cosette was— Cosette with her pink skin and her sundresses and her long blonde hair, Cosette with her dead mother and her sleep deprivation and her façade of propriety and manners to keep from getting hurt. She smells like flowers, but she feels like fire.

And then Eponine is kissing her back and _this_ is what kissing was always supposed to be. _This_ is what was always missing when she hooked up before. She thinks she could kiss Cosette forever, if Cosette would let her.

They pull apart slowly, reluctantly, to the sound of the boys wolf-whistling and catcalling and one of them shouting, above it all, "Atta girl!"

Eponine isn't sure who it was, but she fucking hopes it was Marius.


End file.
